by Sam Barone
“Have you see those two before?” Uvela rose to her feet as she spoke, determined to have a second look.
Her daughter, sitting beside her, didn’t raise her head or her voice. She, too, knew how to use her eyes. “Never.”
“I’ll follow them.” Uvela pulled a scarf from a pocket in her dress, and swept it over her head and across her neck. The gray hair vanished in an instant. Meanwhile, her daughter removed her own hat, a large reed affair that would cover both head and scarf if need be, and handed it to her mother.
Uvela moved quickly through the gate. The guard there gave her a glance, but said nothing. No one questioned or even spoke to one of Annok-sur or Lady Trella’s women when they went about their business. In fact, the guards made sure that no one else disturbed them, either by accident or on purpose.
In moments, Uvela caught sight of the two men moving deeper into the city. She slowed her step, staying about twenty paces behind them, the usual crowd of men and women filling the lane between them. The men glanced around from time to time, but a ragged older woman blended into the throng, almost unseen and beneath notice in any event. Nevertheless, Uvela kept well behind the two as they moved closer to the center of the city. They stopped only once, to ask directions from a vendor, before they continued on until they reached the Spotted Owl, a tavern often used by travelers.
This time both men glanced around before they entered the dwelling, but if they saw a woman wearing a large reed hat, they never noticed.
Uvela found a place to stand and waited. The Spotted Owl, while not one of Akkad’s finest, provided good food and decent ale at reasonable prices. After a river journey it was only natural for travelers who could afford the price to want to partake of some ale and food. She settled in, the scarf and hat held out of sight behind her back, expecting to wait some time while the two men quenched their thirst. But before long, one of the men came out and turned up the lane, away from where Uvela sat. She moved to her feet, prepared to follow the stranger, but before she’d taken more than a few steps, he ducked under a low doorway and disappeared into one of the endless huts whose uneven walls formed the lane.
Retracing her steps, Uvela returned to her vantage point. With a little stretching she could see both tavern and hut from where she stood, and her slight stature made her almost invisible as she leaned against the wall. Before long, the second man stepped out of the tavern, glanced up and down the lane, and followed his companion’s steps to the same house.
By now her interest was more than idle curiosity. Even before the outbreak of hostilities with Sumer, Annok-sur’s network of spies and informers had kept their eyes open for any suspicious strangers. With the armies of Akkad and Sumer marching toward each other, Uvela and others like herself had heightened their activities. Any stranger, boatman, merchant or uncouth farmer could be a spy for Sumer, even a possible assassin. Before Lady Trella became queen of Akkad, or even Eskkar’s wife, she had nearly succumbed to an assassin’s knife.
Now Trella rarely left the Compound, and when she did venture forth, a compliment of Hawk Clan soldiers guarded her person as zealously as they protected the king’s. And although Eskkar had marched south with Gatus and the army, there were still other possible targets for hired killers within Akkad.
An attractive young girl, her hips moving suggestively, strolled down the lane, smiling at potential customers and trying to talk to the any of the passersby who showed the slightest interest. Her shift, cut low, revealed much of her breasts. As she drew close to the spot where Uvela waited, she gestured casually, and the girl approached.
“Good day, Uvela.”
“And good day to you, Martana. Are you busy right now?”
“No, only one customer so far today, and that took but a few moments.” She laughed at the memory. “He had to rush back to his wife and four children.”
Uvela smiled at the story. “Then perhaps you can do some work for me.” She told Martana about the two men, and described them in detail, including where they seemed to be staying.
“See what you can find out about them from the people in the tavern.” She reached inside her dress and handed the girl a copper coin. “You’ll earn a silver coin if you discover anything useful. But be careful. Don’t arouse any suspicions. They could be dangerous.”
Martana tossed her head. “Everyone knows I’m curious about men. Will you be here long?”
“No, I’ll be up the lane, where I can watch the house better.” And where she could send a message to Annok-sur to ask for help, but there was no need to tell Martana that.
Uvela waited until the girl disappeared inside the tavern, then moved up the lane, just another old woman beneath the notice of most men in the city.
A street vendor Uvela knew was happy to dispatch one of her daughters to carry word to Annok-sur, and just as eager to provide a doorway from which Uvela could keep a close eye on the stranger’s hut. She settled in for a long wait, but at least she knew she would soon have plenty of help.
The next day, just after dusk, Trella, Annok-sur and Uvela sat at the table in the workroom, their heads almost touching. Though the room provided plenty of privacy, Bantor and a few of his commanders lingered in the Map Room, so the three women kept their voices low, out of habit as much as for any other reason. Successful women learned almost from childhood to keep their thoughts and conversations to themselves, lest what they think or say upset or anger the men in their lives.
“They’ve settled in for the night,” Uvela said. She had just arrived from her post in the lane, where three other women now kept watch on the strange men staying at the Spotted Owl. “It seems they’ve joined up with seven or eight others who’ve been hanging around the inn. Some are staying at a house just up the lane. This morning the two newcomers split up, and spent most of the day wandering around the city, each accompanied by one of those who’d been living here. None of them appeared interested in seeking work, or buying anything but food and ale. They don’t look or act like laborers. They might be just thieves.”
“Or assassins,” Annok-sur said. “Bantor, or even Trella could be their target.”
Trella frowned. “And you think one of those who arrived yesterday is the leader?”
“Yes, the others seem to defer to him. Jovarik is his name, and he’s also a little older. No one knows if this is his first visit to Akkad. We followed him around today. He walked all over the city, and spent some time near each of the gates.”
“If the others, who have been here longer,” Trella said, “have also learned what they want about the gates and its guards, Jovarik may not need to see much more.”
“We could bring in the innkeeper,” Annok-sur said. “He might be able to tell us more about them.”
“No, if he’s in league with them, they would be warned. And we’ve nothing from Martana or the other prostitutes?”
“No, nothing,” Uvela said. “Martana serviced two of them this afternoon, but always with one or two of the others watching. They said nothing, except that they’re in Akkad seeking work. Last night four of them took another girl back to the house, but even after pleasuring all of them, she heard nothing suspicious. They say little when anyone is nearby, it seems.”
“We need to overhear their conversations,” Annok-sur suggested. “Perhaps one of your girls can get close enough without being seen.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Uvela said, after pausing a few moments to consider the possibility. “Those staying at the Spotted Owl say little, and the ones living in the house would be suspicious if they thought someone was trying to spy on them. They always keep someone at the door and they even watch the smoke hole every so often.”
“Perhaps we should just have Bantor’s men take them into custody,” Annok-sur said. “Some time with the torturers would tell us what we want to know.”
“Eskkar and the soldiers have been gone for five days,” Trella said. “And we know that enemy horsemen are approaching the city from the east. Those mara
uders must have some plan in mind, some way they think they can get into the city.”
“Unless they just want to raid the countryside.” Uvela hitched her stool a bit closer. “That’s happened many times in the past.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Trella said. “The war with Sumeria started suddenly. We had no hint of the threat. How is it then that the barbarians arrive on our doorstep at the same time? That seems too much of a coincidence.”
“Then we should have these strangers arrested, brought before Bantor’s questioners. That’s what Eskkar would do.”
“Yes, that would be his first reaction,” Trella agreed. “But that wouldn’t stop the horsemen from raiding our lands, and they might devastate the countryside, destroy all our crops. If Eskkar remains in the south more than a few weeks, there might be nothing left when he returns.”
Neither Annok-sur nor Uvela said anything. Eskkar and the army might never return, or if they did, they might arrive on the run, a broken force, with the Sumerian hounds right behind them.
Trella read their silence. Such thoughts, while never voiced, were no doubt often on the minds of those who knew the true situation. “I want to know what these men are planning. We need to get someone close to them, someone who can hear their words.”
“Any women in the inn would attract attention,” Uvela said. “Others like Martana would likely learn nothing.”
“I agree,” Trella said. “I think there may be another way. Send for Wakannh. He’s good at finding people.”
From the shadows Wakannh studied the small tavern up the lane. Not really much of a tavern, more like a hovel whose owner sold some overpriced and watered-down ale in the evenings to half a dozen drunks and thieves. Not that there was much to see, just a dim outline of a low doorway.
“Is that the place? What would someone at the Compound want with any of that rabble?”
“Shut your face,” Wakannh said. As a leader of ten in Akkad’s guard, he commanded this little group of four men tonight. Annok-sur had given him the information that the thief Sargat might be found within the tavern, but Wakannh didn’t intend to share Annok-sur’s name with any of his men, let alone a recruit of less than a hundred days.
“Sargat is one of the quickest thieves in Akkad,” Wakannh said. “So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go in the front. You two go around to the next lane. There’s probably a secret way out to the back. And you . . .” he grabbed the talkative recruit by the shoulder, “look agile enough. You get up on the roof. If Sargat tries to get away, make sure you stop him. And so help me, if you make a sound up there and give us away, you’ll be digging latrines for the rest of your miserable life.”
“Yes, commander,” the recruit said, fingering his sword in the darkness. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Better give me your sword,” Wakannh said. “It will only get in your way on the roof. And I want Sargat alive, remember that, all of you. The folks in the Compound can’t talk to a dead man. Now get going, all of you.”
Regretfully, the recruit handed over his sword. His leader of ten always seemed to take particular satisfaction in picking on him.
Wakannh waited while his men moved into position. He couldn’t see them in the next lane, but they were veterans who would do what they were ordered, without asking stupid questions or trying to do any thinking on their own. When he saw a darker shadow appear and disappear on the rooftop, Wakannh started down the lane.
At the entrance, the smell of fresh urine greeted his nose, even stronger than the usual night odors to be expected. A greasy blanket hanging at an angle half-covered the doorway. A fire burned inside, its light leaking out from around the edge of the door covering.
He pushed it aside, ducked under the door stile, and took a quick glance around the room. A single candle burned, adding its flickering light to that of the fire. A quick count showed eight men within, all of whom looked up as he entered. The sight of one of Akkad’s guards stopped all conversations. Annok-sur had described Sargat, so Wakannh’s eyes searched the little gathering, soon eliminating all but two of the group.
“I want to talk to Sargat. Which one –?”
The figure farthest away from the doorway burst into motion. Before Wakannh could react, Sargat had sprung to his feet. Two quick steps and he launched himself at the ladder that led to the roof, his foot landing unerringly on the third tread before the slow-reacting Wakannh started moving. Sargat’s legs had almost disappeared up the ladder before the ceiling shook and rattled. The thief’s body came tumbling down, to crash onto the earthen floor with a thud.
To Wakannh’s astonishment, the fall hardly slowed the man down. Sargat twisted to one side and leapt to his feet, but by then Wakannh had barreled his way through the patrons, knocking two men aside. He shot out his hand, caught Sargat by the hair, and jerked him back with all the strength of his bowman’s arm.
This time the thief landed flat on his back, and Wakannh planted a knee on Sargat’s chest and the tip of his sword on his neck. “Going somewhere?” With a quick flip of his wrist, the sword’s pommel struck down on Sargat’s forehead, stunning the man. “I don’t think so, scum.”
“I got him good, didn’t I, commander?” The recruit had swung down from the roof and now stood beside his commander.
Wakannh opened his mouth to bark at the recruit, but changed his mind instead. If Sargat could move that fast, he might have slipped past a less alert guard, even one waiting on the roof. “Yes, you did, for once. Good job. Now go get the others.”
Within moments, the four guardsmen had Sargat’s hands bound behind his back, and his legs hobbled together, so that he wouldn’t try running away. Wakannh didn’t intend to take any chances with someone who moved that fast.
“Where are you taking me?” Sargat had regained his wits quick enough.
“To the Compound. And if you open your mouth again, I’ll deliver you with your balls cut off and shoved down your throat.” He turned to the still smiling recruit, busy massaging his right fist. “Put a sack over his head. The less he sees and hears, the better.”
45
Sargat’s fingers dug into the wall, and he swung himself onto the ledge, taking care to keep his silhouette as inconspicuous as possible. Once on the inner side of the ledge, he settled in and remained motionless. Over the years, he’d learned many things about climbing about on other people’s rooftops, but the most important lesson was to fade into the shadows and avoid the slightest movement. Many times the creaking of a ceiling beam or rustling of cut branches had caused a head to pop up from the smoke hole and look around. Thick shadows, dark clothing, and the absence of the slightest motion tended to render him unseen.
Another lesson well learned was patience. He’d reached the roof adjoining the hut that held Jovarik and his companions. Now he needed to assure himself that anyone below who might have heard something became reassured, until whatever sound from the sagging roof faded from memory.
While Sargat waited, he thought about what had happened earlier. The guards had caught him easily enough. Sargat hadn’t thought anyone even knew he’d returned to Akkad. He’d only slipped into the city twenty days ago. In that time, he’d robbed only three houses, descending through the smoke holes, taking what he could, and disappearing into the night as silently as he’d come. He would have sworn that no one had seen him. Despite all his care, the guards had come straight to the tavern. Someone had planned his capture with care, to ensure that he didn’t escape and vanish once again into Akkad’s criminal underworld.
He soon learned who that was. When his captors removed the sack covering his head, he found himself sitting across the table from Annoksur. Lady Trella sat just outside of the candlelight, a half-step behind the older woman. When he glanced around, Sargat realized he was in the king’s Compound, the so-called workroom where Lady Trella dispatched her agents to spy on Akkad’s troublemakers. Which included him, Sargat decided. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light from the single candle, he realiz
ed that no guards or servants stood nearby. They would be within call, of course. Still, their absence meant that something private needed to be discussed.
Annok-sur’s hands remained below the table, and he guessed a weapon would be in her hand, ready should he make any sudden movement toward either of them. His own hands remained bound, but the rope looped about his ankles had been removed before they had escorted him up the stairs, and not replaced.
“Welcome to the Lady Trella’s house,” Annok-sur said. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.” Still trying to collect his wits, he didn’t trust himself to say more. The less he spoke, the harder it would be for the witch-queen of Akkad to read his thoughts. Or so he hoped.
“Good. We only learned of your return to the city a few days ago. You should know that guards are waiting in the courtyard to bring you before the King’s Justice. I expect that you’ll be found guilty of enough crimes to warrant you being sentenced to the slave gang for the rest of your life.”
Sargat heard the threat, but they hadn’t brought him here in the night to remind him of his fate. Sentenced to the labor gang meant that they would break his legs first, so that he couldn’t run, then, when he had recovered, he’d work for the rest of his life. He put that thought out of his mind. They wanted something from him, but what?
“Of course, you may be able to avoid the work gang, and earn a few silver coins in the bargain. If you’re interested, that is.”
His eyes flickered to Lady Trella, but the shadows hid her eyes, and he couldn’t read anything from her expression. Whatever she wanted, and it must be something important to warrant her presence, he’d find out soon enough.
“What can I do for you, and . . . Lady Trella?”
“There are some men in Akkad who may be plotting with our enemies,” Annok-sur continued. “We want you to discover what it is that they plan. You would need to get close enough to hear what they’re saying.”
“And if I do that . . . ?”
